Lindsay Lohan’s Leaked Sexual Conquests, Ranked
Have you ever created a list of all the celebrities you’ve fucked while playing Scattergories with your homegirls? Us neither! But as we all know, none of us are Lindsay Lohan—the perpetually scandal-ridden tabloid star (allegedly) wrote a list out at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and because Lindsay is Lindsay, she forgot the list at the hotel and it found its way toInTouch magazine. The list (which some people think is fake, and Lindsay could always be lying about some of the names, but whatever) resembles the Hollywood Reporter’s power rankings, except, we couldn’t help but notice, they’re all out of order. (Also, for some reason Lindsay has excluded her teen love, Aaron Carter. Maybe Lindsay doesn’t consider Aaron a celebrity?) Here’s the list of names from most impressive conquest to least impressive.
1. Heath Ledger (legendary actor, now dead)“After I win an Oscar, I can start thinking about love,” Lindsay said in 2012 during an interview to promote the Lifetime movie Liz and Dick. Lindsay has clearly done more lovemaking than acting in the last few years, which hasn’t helped her quest for a tiny golden man, but that doesn’t really matter: She. Fucked. Heath. Ledger. Who needs an Oscar, or love, when you have that Academy Award–winning, tragically dead notch on your belt?
2. Justin Timberlake (actor/singer/Britney Spears’s former boyfriend)There’s a theory that if two girls have sex with the same boy they become “vagina sisters” and feel each other’s emotions for the rest of their lives. Considering Lindsay banged pop-star-turned-Tennessee-Williams-character Britney Spears’s first kiss, it’s no wonder her life fell apart! You’d be crazy too if you felt what Britney felt when recorded “personal” songs with Will.I.Am.
3. Colin Farrell (actor/hot Irish drunk)That encounter must have been like two drunken, insane, attention-starved ships passing in the night. By the way, have you seen Colin Farrel’s dick pics?

Colin Farrell: NOT A VIRGIN, sez LiLo. Photo via Flickr user GabboT
4. Joaquin Phoenix (Oscar-nominated actor/performance artist)I can imagine Lindsay fucking Joaquin while thinking that he was in love with her—or, at least, that the relationship would help her get cast in a P.T. Anderson film, but I can also imagining them meeting while Joaquin was stumbling around Chateau Marmont in a dirty suit, rambling about rap music, in the name of performance art.
5. Adam Levine (singer/judge on The Voice)He’s a tough one to rank. I mean, no matter what you think of The Voice,  LOOK AT THESE FUCKING ABS.
6. Zac Efron (former Disney Channel star)Yes, he’s the most attractive man in the world. But is Zac Efron’s career more depressing than Lindsay Lohan’s? After thrusting his pelvis while throwing sand in the air in High School Musical, he starred in a string of Nicholas Sparks-inspired romantic flops. Nobody cared when Zac entered rehab for a coke addiction last year, and this week he said he wants to star in a High School Musical reunion, which is not a good sign. It’s off brand for Lindsay to fuck such a failure, I thought, but then I remembered Zac wearing wet white briefs in The Paperboy, and reconsidered. Oh, and she misspelled his name on the list :(
Continue

Lindsay Lohan’s Leaked Sexual Conquests, Ranked

Have you ever created a list of all the celebrities you’ve fucked while playing Scattergories with your homegirls? Us neither! But as we all know, none of us are Lindsay Lohan—the perpetually scandal-ridden tabloid star (allegedly) wrote a list out at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and because Lindsay is Lindsay, she forgot the list at the hotel and it found its way toInTouch magazine. The list (which some people think is fake, and Lindsay could always be lying about some of the names, but whatever) resembles the Hollywood Reporter’s power rankings, except, we couldn’t help but notice, they’re all out of order. (Also, for some reason Lindsay has excluded her teen love, Aaron Carter. Maybe Lindsay doesn’t consider Aaron a celebrity?) Here’s the list of names from most impressive conquest to least impressive.

1. Heath Ledger (legendary actor, now dead)
“After I win an Oscar, I can start thinking about love,” Lindsay said in 2012 during an interview to promote the Lifetime movie Liz and Dick. Lindsay has clearly done more lovemaking than acting in the last few years, which hasn’t helped her quest for a tiny golden man, but that doesn’t really matter: She. Fucked. Heath. Ledger. Who needs an Oscar, or love, when you have that Academy Award–winning, tragically dead notch on your belt?

2. Justin Timberlake (actor/singer/Britney Spears’s former boyfriend)
There’s a theory that if two girls have sex with the same boy they become “vagina sisters” and feel each other’s emotions for the rest of their lives. Considering Lindsay banged pop-star-turned-Tennessee-Williams-character Britney Spears’s first kiss, it’s no wonder her life fell apart! You’d be crazy too if you felt what Britney felt when recorded “personal” songs with Will.I.Am.

3. Colin Farrell (actor/hot Irish drunk)
That encounter must have been like two drunken, insane, attention-starved ships passing in the night. By the way, have you seen Colin Farrel’s dick pics?

Colin Farrell: NOT A VIRGIN, sez LiLo. Photo via Flickr user GabboT

4. Joaquin Phoenix (Oscar-nominated actor/performance artist)
I can imagine Lindsay fucking Joaquin while thinking that he was in love with her—or, at least, that the relationship would help her get cast in a P.T. Anderson film, but I can also imagining them meeting while Joaquin was stumbling around Chateau Marmont in a dirty suit, rambling about rap music, in the name of performance art.

5. Adam Levine (singer/judge on The Voice)
He’s a tough one to rank. I mean, no matter what you think of The Voice LOOK AT THESE FUCKING ABS.

6. Zac Efron (former Disney Channel star)
Yes, he’s the most attractive man in the world. But is Zac Efron’s career more depressing than Lindsay Lohan’s? After thrusting his pelvis while throwing sand in the air in High School Musical, he starred in a string of Nicholas Sparks-inspired romantic flops. Nobody cared when Zac entered rehab for a coke addiction last year, and this week he said he wants to star in a High School Musical reunion, which is not a good sign. It’s off brand for Lindsay to fuck such a failure, I thought, but then I remembered Zac wearing wet white briefs in The Paperboy, and reconsidered. Oh, and she misspelled his name on the list :(

Continue

motherboardtv:

Dogs Are Now Part of the Internet of Things

who’s a good tracking device 

motherboardtv:

Dogs Are Now Part of the Internet of Things

who’s a good tracking device 

How to Have Better Sex in 2014
This is an article about having better sex in 2014. To take you to new erotic heights, I was going to give you some practical sex advice: don’t fuck two participants in a threesome with the same condom on, a guy will almost always love it if you sit on his face, ladies don’t like cum in their hair, etc. But, to be honest, practical tips turn sex into a bizarre shopping list: If you didn’t like Tip #2: “Draw a sexy bull’s-eye around your nipple with rhinestones and eyelash glue” (an actual Cosmo tip), then try Tip #9: “Gently stick his penis through the hole of a glazed donut” (another REAL TIP). These tips are impractical. There is really only one tip I can give you: use your mouth.
For talking, guys. For talking. I talked to a bunch of normal people I know and asked them what happened with their dicks, pussies, and asses in 2013 and what they’re going to do to make it better in 2014.
Pat, 30, is a regular human who had a good sex year: “Sex for me this year was all about learning to have sex consistently with one partner. Previously I was more of a casual sex/fuckbuddy person, but now that I have a girlfriend I had to get used to the idea of having monogamous sex with the same woman, all the time. Partner sex is less about getting drunk enough to do crazy shit and more about looking each other in the eyes and soberly telling each other what you want. In 2014 I think that trust will serve to help us explore even further our desires and sexual proclivities in a way that neither of us have had the opportunity to in the past. And by that I mean butt stuff.”
Continue

How to Have Better Sex in 2014

This is an article about having better sex in 2014. To take you to new erotic heights, I was going to give you some practical sex advice: don’t fuck two participants in a threesome with the same condom on, a guy will almost always love it if you sit on his face, ladies don’t like cum in their hair, etc. But, to be honest, practical tips turn sex into a bizarre shopping list: If you didn’t like Tip #2: “Draw a sexy bull’s-eye around your nipple with rhinestones and eyelash glue” (an actual Cosmo tip), then try Tip #9: “Gently stick his penis through the hole of a glazed donut” (another REAL TIP). These tips are impractical. There is really only one tip I can give you: use your mouth.

For talking, guys. For talking. I talked to a bunch of normal people I know and asked them what happened with their dicks, pussies, and asses in 2013 and what they’re going to do to make it better in 2014.

Pat, 30, is a regular human who had a good sex year: “Sex for me this year was all about learning to have sex consistently with one partner. Previously I was more of a casual sex/fuckbuddy person, but now that I have a girlfriend I had to get used to the idea of having monogamous sex with the same woman, all the time. Partner sex is less about getting drunk enough to do crazy shit and more about looking each other in the eyes and soberly telling each other what you want. In 2014 I think that trust will serve to help us explore even further our desires and sexual proclivities in a way that neither of us have had the opportunity to in the past. And by that I mean butt stuff.”

Continue

This Halloween, Burn a Kitten (Candle)

This Halloween, Burn a Kitten (Candle)

Part 3 is here!

Part 3 is here!

Watch: Lil Bub & Friendz, Part 2

Watch: Lil Bub & Friendz, Part 2

It’s here! Watch part one of Lil Bub & Friendz, the heartwarming story of the internet’s favorite cat, on vice.com.

Aside from emo stars, the sparrows tattoo is probably the most cliché of all scene tattoos. For ladies, anyway. Dudes who have sparrows tattoos have bigger problems on their hands than being cliché. There are two places you can get the sparrows. The first is on your hip bones, which is a delightful way to let anyone about to get into your pants for the first time know that this territory has already been charted by the singer of a mid-level screamo band.
—What Your Regrettable Scene Tattoo Says About You

Aside from emo stars, the sparrows tattoo is probably the most cliché of all scene tattoos. For ladies, anyway. Dudes who have sparrows tattoos have bigger problems on their hands than being cliché. There are two places you can get the sparrows. The first is on your hip bones, which is a delightful way to let anyone about to get into your pants for the first time know that this territory has already been charted by the singer of a mid-level screamo band.


—What Your Regrettable Scene Tattoo Says About You


Babysit My AssDir: Joey SilveraRating: 10JoeySilvera.com/Evilangel.com
In April, after a battery of tests, at age three and a half, my firstborn son was diagnosed on the autism spectrum. Perhaps I should have realized something was up sooner—like at ten months when he lined 34 pancake bites across his highchair tray equidistant apart from each other in a straight line. Or at age two when he became very particular about how his toys and books were put away and any deviation would result in a meltdown. But I had no idea what signs to look for. I was a first-time parent with no father to ask for guidance. It took my son’s preschool teacher to tell me his humming and outbursts warranted professional examination. 
It seemed just as the diagnosis came back that things were at their worst; meltdowns and outbursts were becoming violent, and he nearly broke my wife’s nose with a kick to the face in one particular instance. I wrapped him up in my love and rocked him back and forth to calm him down. I whispered in his ear how bad it is to hit people.
July 1 marked my seventh wedding anniversary and I found myself in a car headed for Maine on a camping trip with my family. The campsite, as you would hope, smelled of inbreeding and white trash from various parts of America. The people at the cabin next door to ours were from Ohio. The wife and husband both wore glasses, giving them the appearance of being learned; I realized this to be false advertisement when their five-year-old daughter rode up on her bicycle and said, “Mommy! Drinky!” and proceeded to hop off her bike and run over to her mother who was simultaneously whipping out her deflated tit to put in the child’s mouth. 
The swimming pool was ice-cold but had four hot tubs in a row beside it. My son liked to jump in the freezing cold water, letting his temperature drop, then hop in each of the hot tubs for exactly 34 seconds before moving on to the next. Two hot tubs were marked under 18 and two were marked over 18. He can already read but he chose not to heed the signs and I didn’t stop him; he was enjoying himself.
A 40-year-old redneck guido (picture a mullet and gold chain, Oakley Blades, and a Pam Anderson barbwire arm tattoo) tried to regulate a hot tub for him and his bro. My son paid him no mind and slid into their tub. The guy told my son, “No kids allowed.” My son ignored him and continued to count to 34. I told the fucker, “It’s fine, I’m his dad.” He kept on and pointed to the sign and said it was 18 and over. I looked at him and laughed. He had no idea how important counting to 34 was to my boy, and I wasn’t going to tell him. It was none of his goddamn business, and I wasn’t going to give my son a “He’s special” crutch to walk around with his whole life. If his wild eccentricities make him happy, there’s no reason for him or anyone else to apologize for them. I told the Kenny Powers stunt double, “It’s a campground. We’re all on vacation. Chill out.” 
With that he leapt out of the water and puffed up in my face. He was begging me to pummel him senseless and fill that tub full of blood, and it took everything I had to restrain myself. 
“You are fighting in defense of a hot tub, you cocksucker. I am fighting for my son. Who do you think is going to win that fight?” I asked him. Maybe his Oakley Blades made him a learned man for that instant because he let it go.
It was the closest I’ve come to beating a man in front of my son. I feel awful he saw me that way, and I could tell in his fearful eyes that it resonated in him.
“Thirty-four?” I asked him.
“Thirty-four.”
“Do you want ice cream?”
As we walked for a chocolate cone with rainbow sprinkles he asked, “Were you going to hit that man, Daddy?”
“No, boy. We don’t hit.”


Read more Skinema from our past issues here.

Babysit My Ass
Dir: Joey Silvera
Rating: 10
JoeySilvera.com/
Evilangel.com

In April, after a battery of tests, at age three and a half, my firstborn son was diagnosed on the autism spectrum. Perhaps I should have realized something was up sooner—like at ten months when he lined 34 pancake bites across his highchair tray equidistant apart from each other in a straight line. Or at age two when he became very particular about how his toys and books were put away and any deviation would result in a meltdown. But I had no idea what signs to look for. I was a first-time parent with no father to ask for guidance. It took my son’s preschool teacher to tell me his humming and outbursts warranted professional examination. 

It seemed just as the diagnosis came back that things were at their worst; meltdowns and outbursts were becoming violent, and he nearly broke my wife’s nose with a kick to the face in one particular instance. I wrapped him up in my love and rocked him back and forth to calm him down. I whispered in his ear how bad it is to hit people.

July 1 marked my seventh wedding anniversary and I found myself in a car headed for Maine on a camping trip with my family. The campsite, as you would hope, smelled of inbreeding and white trash from various parts of America. The people at the cabin next door to ours were from Ohio. The wife and husband both wore glasses, giving them the appearance of being learned; I realized this to be false advertisement when their five-year-old daughter rode up on her bicycle and said, “Mommy! Drinky!” and proceeded to hop off her bike and run over to her mother who was simultaneously whipping out her deflated tit to put in the child’s mouth. 

The swimming pool was ice-cold but had four hot tubs in a row beside it. My son liked to jump in the freezing cold water, letting his temperature drop, then hop in each of the hot tubs for exactly 34 seconds before moving on to the next. Two hot tubs were marked under 18 and two were marked over 18. He can already read but he chose not to heed the signs and I didn’t stop him; he was enjoying himself.

A 40-year-old redneck guido (picture a mullet and gold chain, Oakley Blades, and a Pam Anderson barbwire arm tattoo) tried to regulate a hot tub for him and his bro. My son paid him no mind and slid into their tub. The guy told my son, “No kids allowed.” My son ignored him and continued to count to 34. I told the fucker, “It’s fine, I’m his dad.” He kept on and pointed to the sign and said it was 18 and over. I looked at him and laughed. He had no idea how important counting to 34 was to my boy, and I wasn’t going to tell him. It was none of his goddamn business, and I wasn’t going to give my son a “He’s special” crutch to walk around with his whole life. If his wild eccentricities make him happy, there’s no reason for him or anyone else to apologize for them. I told the Kenny Powers stunt double, “It’s a campground. We’re all on vacation. Chill out.” 

With that he leapt out of the water and puffed up in my face. He was begging me to pummel him senseless and fill that tub full of blood, and it took everything I had to restrain myself. 

“You are fighting in defense of a hot tub, you cocksucker. I am fighting for my son. Who do you think is going to win that fight?” I asked him. Maybe his Oakley Blades made him a learned man for that instant because he let it go.

It was the closest I’ve come to beating a man in front of my son. I feel awful he saw me that way, and I could tell in his fearful eyes that it resonated in him.

“Thirty-four?” I asked him.

“Thirty-four.”

“Do you want ice cream?”

As we walked for a chocolate cone with rainbow sprinkles he asked, “Were you going to hit that man, Daddy?”

“No, boy. We don’t hit.”

Read more Skinema from our past issues here.

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